


Honor Among Thieves

by hugoslavia



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - Argentina 21st c., Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego?
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, F/F, and badly written crack I might add, crack crack crack, the official cristina crackfic writer on ao3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 02:11:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13308201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hugoslavia/pseuds/hugoslavia
Summary: A world-class thief and a former President who's in some trouble are an unlikely pair, but a perfect one.





	Honor Among Thieves

**Author's Note:**

> I'm blaming a friend of mine for this one. PS: This is fiction.
> 
> Also we're just assuming Carmen speaks Spanish here, because I have a reality boner and also I can't handle doing another GoogleTranslate!fic if you feel me

“Don’t make me say it a third time, Cristina,” Carmen said, looking at the shadowed figure that stood in the window of the hotel suite. “I am not helping you get out of this mess.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve risked everything too many times to help you with your constant idiotic mistakes…and for what? I’m not ruining everything I’ve got going on just because your hair looks so _exquisite_ spread all over my pillows.”

 Cristina turned, her arms crossed as though she were angry, but Carmen recognized her nervousness. Her features seemed to soften when she was worried, and she looked almost delicate in those moments. But Carmen was too much of a pro to let that get to her. “You really think I’m so vain that a compliment would distract me right now?”

“Maybe.” Carmen winked and let her think about it.

“Don’t call me idiotic. I panicked, okay? Don’t you ever just fucking panic sometimes?”

“No.” 

“Fuck you. You’re infuriating, did you know that? Why do I bother spending time with you?”

And she turned and strode to the minibar. She didn’t drink, a sensible choice which Carmen found appealing; instead, she stood there and stabbed the scoop into the ice bucket so hard chips of ice flew out. Eventually she managed to fill a glass with ice cubes and slid two into her mouth.

 “Stop making yourself overheat,” Carmen said. “That sort of thing is why you got your passport confiscated, Cristina. I get away with what I do because I remain calm _no matter what._  

Cristina sighed and sat down at the edge of the California King, smoothing out the rumpled sheets before she did. She’d slid on Carmen’s coat earlier, before this whole conversation started, and she smoothed that out too before sitting. She might have been about half a foot shorter than Carmen, but the red trench coat somehow fit her just as well 

“Look, Carmen…I think you’re the only one who can help me. Every day they arrest someone else…I have no one left on my side except my family, and I can’t involve them any more than they already have been. Please…”

“Wow,” said Carmen. “I didn’t know you used that word outside of—” She patted the bed. “This piece of furniture.”

“Don’t push me.”

Carmen sat down beside her. Of course, she liked to tease, but she did have _some_ compassion, after all. “What exactly do you think I can do for you? I’m a thief, not a hit man. Hit woman, as the case may be. If you’re expecting me to, I don’t know…Arrange the death of a judge, or something, that’s definitely not in my purview.”

“No, that wasn’t it, although that would be…Never mind.” Cristina popped another ice cube into her mouth, and Carmen slid over to flip on one of the bedside lamps so she could watch her make quick work of it. She waited. Patience was, after all, a virtue, as was Cristina’s mouth.

“I was hoping you could steal the prisons.”

“What?”

“The prisons, you know, Argentina’s federal prisons.”

 “All of them?”

“Of course. They can’t throw me in one if there aren’t any, right?” Cristina tossed her hair back and gave Carmen a little bit of a smirk, the kind Carmen often gave herself. 

“Well…I’ve never arranged for the theft of a prison before, but it seems low-stakes compared to when I nabbed the Eiffel Tower.”

“Low-stakes is good,” Cristina said. “Give yourself a vacation. You deserve it.”

“I deserve a vacation from you,” Carmen said. “Dealing with you is the most stressful thing I do.”

“I guess I had that coming.” Cristina shifted and her pearl necklace caught the lamplight. She’d done it on purpose, of course, like the show-off she was. As a thief she was in a very different league than Carmen, but a thief just the same.

Large-scale theft was fun…and sometimes a bit of old-fashioned trickery worked just as well. Carmen reached into one of the outer pockets of the trench coat and pulled out a thin book with a blue cover.

“My passport?” Cristina’s eyes widened. “How the fuck…”

Carmen sent a smirk her way.

“I’ve been wearing this thing and it’s had my passport in it the whole time? Give it to me.”

“Remember when you said _please_ earlier?” Carmen winked and slid the passport underneath her. “I didn’t think I’d be hearing you say that again anytime soon. Guess I was right.”

“Give me my fucking passport,” Cristina hissed. When angry, she was a particular mix of firey and icy that Carmen imagined might be intimidating to someone who wasn’t her.

 “Hmmm,” Carmen said. “Right now I have something that belongs to you. And _you_ —“ and she gestured at the trench coat “—have something that belongs to _me._ ”

“Seems about right for a thief and someone who’s been accused of fraud,” Cristina said. They maintained a moment or two of eye contact. Neither of them blinked.

“Then if we’re partners in crime, so to speak, let’s respect that. You give me what’s mine, and I’ll give you back what’s yours.” 

“I like this coat,” Cristina said. “I’m pretty sure it matches a bag I have.” 

She made it fun, that was the thing about her—she drove Carmen crazy, but that was almost refreshing in a world she’d mastered over and over again. She reached and undid the top button of the coat. “This belongs to me.”

“Watch your mouth,” Cristina said, her voice softening. “There’s only one person I belong to, and it’s not you.”

“Do you _always_ assume everyone is talking about you?”

And Carmen continued to unbutton the coat. Cristina watched her do it. When all the buttons were undone, she leaned back so Carmen could easily slide it off her shoulders. That was another thing about her—she was neither shameless about, nor ashamed of, her own nudity. Carmen didn’t have much patience for anything other than that. She was too busy to encourage and too bored by seduction that was purely physical. 

“Thank you!” Carmen flung her coat across the room, not caring where it landed. She sprawled flat on her back on the bed, stretching her long legs out so her toes poked Cristina’s bare thigh. That got her foot quite a hard swat in response.

 “Stop that.”

Carmen slid the passport underneath her again, keeping her legs outstretched. “Come get it. But you have to use your mouth or else I’ll make it disappear forever.”

Cristina groaned and rolled her eyes. “Really? _Really_? Grow up.”

“I mean, I am a lot younger than you, so I don’t know what you expect from me.”

“We spent over an hour fucking,” Cristina said, attempting to admonish Carmen like the mom she was. “You think I have the energy for more? You bragged about stealing some ancient foot massage secret last time. Why don’t you—”

“Your speeches take hours,” Carmen pointed out, sliding her hands behind her head to get even more comfortable. “So yes, I think you have the energy for pretty much anything you want.”

“I want my passport,” Cristina mumbled. “Those motherfuckers, the way they’ve been treating me lately, I didn’t think I’d ever see it again.”

Carmen ran the arch of her foot slowly across Cristina’s thigh, now, and upon feeling her shiver remembered she should add _the hard-earned lust of Argentina’s former president_ to the list of things she was most proud of pilfering.

Cristina sighed and pushed her cascade of frizzing waves back from her shoulders, preparing herself.

Carmen remembered Cristina’s very specific requirement. _I’m never eating you out unless my hair is out of the way, I don’t want it to get dirty,_ she’d said the first time. Carmen plucked a hair tie off the nightstand and held it out to her. Chivalry wasn’t dead yet, not when Carmen was around.

“Thanks,” Cristina said, whipping her hair into a very neat bun at the top of her head. Finally, Carmen had managed to get a little politeness out of her. “Alright. So. Let’s see how quickly I can get this done.”

“No rush,” Carmen said. “We have all night. Maybe I’ll just go ahead and steal time. Then we’ll have forever.”

 “Don’t even think about it…” Cristina said as she stretched out on her stomach between Carmen’s long legs. “I want it _now.”_

“Don’t worry,” Carmen sighed. As always, Cristina’s mouth was a virtue. “You’ll get it.”

 


End file.
